An Event in the Life of the Undertaker
by LawlietLivesOn
Summary: His days are always a bit out of the ordinary.  Just not usually  this  strange...  Undertaker x Grell  A birthday present!


AN EVENT IN THE LIFE OF THE UNDERTAKER

**{This is a birthday present for the love of my life, Leonardo. I am so freaking lucky to have a boyfriend who enjoys yaoi almost as much as I do XD}**

You may think that an Undertaker's day consists of undertaking.

You are wrong.

At least, in the case of the particular Undertaker we are speaking of. His days were most out of the ordinary. I suppose the business of dead bodies is _always_ a bit out of the ordinary, but this Undertaker –well… He wasn't just any Undertaker.

He had several mind-bending secrets; ones we shall not delve into at this time.

His looks were strange –long silver hair and the tallest top-hat of his time. His hair obscured his eyes, casting a dark shadow over the top half of his face. He wore a black cloak and usually kept his hands obscured by the sleeves, even when gesturing. Obviously not the average-looking man.

If seen on the streets, he tended to cause alarm, fear, and general panic.

But I digress.

I would like to relate to you an event in this peculiar man's life, an event that was rather strange –even for him, this strange and twisted Undertaker.

"Hmm, hmmm, hmm!" The man hummed as he began to dust a coffin he had on display in the front of his shop. He had just opened, and was looking forward to the bodies, lovely dead bodies, that would be given to him shortly. What fun he would have with the bodies, lovely dead bodies! He smiled. He did love his job so.

Just then he heard scratching from within the coffin. He hadn't sold it yet… so… hm. He smiled wider, showing white teeth so brilliant they nearly seemed unnatural. "Who's in there?" He dropped the gray feather duster and opened the coffin door.

The coffin was propped upright, the vertical door swinging open on its hinges without a single _creak_. The Undertaker oiled his coffins daily.

A rather dusty shinigami leapt out and embraced the Undertaker in such a way that their entire bodies were pressed together tightly, a passionate embrace that could only mean one thing.

"Sebas-chan!" The body wiggled against the Undertaker. "I was waiting in here so long, I thought I might have to just go and find you!"

The Undertaker took a step backwards, disengaged their bodies. "Sebas-chan? Are you looking for that wondrously hilarious butler?"

The man in front of him was a splotch of bright blood red against the deathly grays and black and purples of the shop. The shinigami drew a hand through his spiked bangs, stared at the Undertaker with a disgusted expression on his face.

"Ah, you? I was sure Sebas-chan would be the one to let me out. He does come here so often…" He sighed. "Another night in a coffin, wasted."

"I am so sorry that you found my wares not to your liking." The Undertaker turned to begin dusting the coffin again. He picked up the duster, shut the coffin door.

"No, no, not that. They were not made to accommodate the living. Coffins, wonderful things."

The Undertaker paused in his dusting. This shinigami had some good opinions.

"It's just that," the redhead continued. "It's just that… Ah, I spent all that time, and no kiss from Sebas-chan!"

The Undertaker chuckled, before continuing to dust.

"I was waiting for so long! And then you open the door, and I do not mean to belittle you but your features are not quite as pleasing as Sebas-chan's…"

He chuckled some more, this young shinigami was very amusing.

"I cannot see your eyes, of course, but I am assuming they are just more boring gray to go along with the theme you have going there. Now, if you had brilliant red eyes, I may reconsider…"

"Reconsider what?"

"Just how attractive you are!" The redhead sat on the table usually reserved for dead persons and began to kick his legs back and forth childishly, absent-mindedly. "You must really love your profession. The bodies that you receive, they must be full of blood? If I were you, I would have some fun with them before fixing them up for the funeral."

"I do."

"Hmm?"

The Undertaker gestured to the shelves lining the walls. Grell looked around and seemed to notice for the first time that the shelves were filled with jars. The jars were filled with human organs. The rather inconsiderate shinigami made a face.

"I meant _beautiful_ fun. Not fun that leaves you with a colorless shapeless mass in a jar."

"It's my favorite part of the job."

"Oh? You are quite strange, Undertaker, I think it was?"

"Yes. That is what I am, that is what I am called. And you are Grell."

"So you seem to be aware."

The Undertaker set down the duster and was about to tell the other man to go when something occurred to him.

"Earlier you said that you were in my coffin so as to… give a kiss to the hilarious butler?" The man leaned in a bit closer to the redhead. "Why would a butler as entertaining as him give a lowly shinigami like you a kiss?"

"Tch, lowly?" Grell brought a hand to his chest in an extravagant way. "I am but the most beautiful and skilled shinigami ever. I do not know why Sebas-chan seems dissatisfied every time I attempt to kiss him. I have decided that the only way to get what I want from him is persistence."

"I know why he doesn't want to kiss you." The Undertaker giggled softly. This was proving to be most amusing.

"Why? Please, please, tell me why!" The man's light green eyes were struck with sudden urgency and pleading.

"Because you _look_ like a poor kisser."

"…"

"You look distraught. Why is this?"

The red-haired man jumped off of the table and faced the Undertaker. He pointed an accusing finger at the stationary man.

"You –you dare accuse me of such disgust?" His voice had risen to an anguished, girlish tone. "I am such a fabulous kisser that if I were to kiss everyone on our Earth there would be world peace and no more need for either Queens like ours or Queen's Dogs like the Earl!"

"My, my. I refuse to believe this is true. Your countenance dictates a rather sloppy kisser."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! No, I am the best! My countenance simply dictates that I am forceful and skilled. _Skilled._"

The Undertaker turned away, every vein and pore tingling with anticipation for the punch line of this most amusing joke.

"Prove it, Mr. Un-Skilled."

There was silence for a moment, then a high pitched squeal that could only be transcribed as a "!"

"You are so, so, strange and wonderful and most annoying and are you hinting at what I think you are?"

"I simply asked for you to prove your hasty boasts."

"Boasts? It is but the truth." Grell ran so the two were facing again in the shadowy store.

The Undertaker coughed in a way that indicated he was waiting for something. Grell was staring at his lips, which must have meant that he had noticed that the Undertaker's features were maybe not as inferior to Sebastian's as he had originally thought. To help hurry the man up, the Undertaker ran a finger over his lips. His fingers were long and white, a huge green ring on his left hand that he hoped caught the light in a disturbing way.

He loved disturbing people.

Grell couldn't seem to take it anymore –the desire for his lips or for his own pride, the Undertaker didn't know. But it was the perfect punch line to a rather tedious joke.

The red-haired shinigami grasped the long silver strands that hung about the other man's face and pulled their lips together. He didn't pull back for a long time, his lips moving hot and determined over the Undertaker's. _Skilled, _the man thought. _Quite skilled indeed._

When he finally did pull away he stared at the Undertaker with a rather dazed expression on his face. Perhaps he hadn't expected the Undertaker to kiss back so zealously.

"So? Am I or am I not a fabulous kisser?"

The Undertaker couldn't hold back any longer. He fell onto the floor of the shop and started to laugh so chaotically that he thought he felt the vibrations of the shop's sign outside falling down again. He kept laughing though, a laugh particular to him –adorable and not only a bit disturbing. He practiced this laugh daily.

"I –I gave you my all! And you _laugh_? I don't like you, Undertaker. You make me so _angry!_"

_Oh, that isn't anger, young one_, the man thought.

"You're a horrid horrid person and a horrid kisser yourself and I'm going to go find Sebas-chan! At least he has the decency to ignore me!"

The Undertaker responded with an uproarious laugh.

And Grell flung open the door to the shop, gave the fallen sign a hearty kick, and was gone.

The Undertaker stopped laughing abruptly and stood, brushed himself off. He was a bit disappointed that the man had left so soon. He didn't seem to understand that a laugh was in fact the highest praise the Undertaker could give.

**{So, what did you think? I might continue this, if I get a good response :3 But at the moment it's just a oneshot! I love you all! Review if you loved my story! :P}**

**{Oh and I don't own Kuroshitsuji. Duh. If I did this wouldn't be on FF- it would actually have happened in the anime!}  
**


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